In Your Hands
by TiTivillus
Summary: Coda to 10x23 Brother's Keeper. The boys are struggling to come to terms with the fact that Dean had almost killed his little brother. Hurt!Comfort.


**Title:** Hands

 **Summary:** Coda to 10x23 Brother`s Keeper. The boys are struggling to come to terms with the fact that Dean had almost killed his little brother. The outfall isn`t pretty, but it`s necessary. Hurting!Boys. Angst.

 **Warnings:** Some language and spoilers up to 10x23.

 **Disclaimer:** Sadly, I still don't own the boys or the show. ;) Credit for the incredible artwork goes to PetiteMadame.

 **Author's notes:** This is a filled story request for _**HobbitLover4eva**_ who requested a Coda for the season10 Finale Brother's Keeper. I hope that`s what you had in mind (more or less).

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"You need some rest."

Dean peeks over the tip of the newspaper he's been pretending to read for the past hour and raises an eyebrow in question. "Come again?"

Sam's lips thin out into a narrow line, arms folded on the table before him. He knows Dean is playing him, trying to avoid the inevitable conversation they have both been dreading for the past couple of days.

"You haven`t been sleeping, Dean," he notes, and then adds much softer. "And last night you were screaming my name in your dreams."

Dean stares at him in silence, face kept carefully expressionless."Do I have to point out to you on just how many levels this sentence is wrong?"

The response is so snappy and ignorant and _so utterly Dean_ that it takes Sam`s breath away for a moment.

"Look, man, I get that everything that's going on right now... it's kind of a lot to take in. But Dean..." Sam goes on with a sigh, trying to make his brother understand. "You gotta stop beating yourself up for what happened."

Apparently these are the wrong words to say.

Sam can see the exact second of Dean shutting down and putting all his barriers up.

"Good talk," the older brother rasps out abrasively, before folding his newspaper in half and getting up from the table. "I`m heading out."

Sam's hand shoots out, strong fingers wrapping themselves around his brother's arm and holding tight. "I get them too, you know? The nightmares..."

Sam swallows, aware of the fact that his next words are going to hurt Dean more than any bad dream ever could.

"Sometimes I see you standing over me with that scythe."

Dean tenses up instantly, shoulders falling and gaze dropping to the floor.

Sam swallows.

He's not sure if he should say the next part out loud.

Dean looks about two seconds away from punching him or doing something equally as stupid, knuckles turning white as he bunches the newspaper in his right hand up into a fist of crinkled letters.

It's obvious that he's hurting and that's why Sam can't stop before it's all out. Much like with a wound that could easily get infected when untreated, Sam needed to pour alcohol over the lesion to prevent further damage from happening.

Sure his words might sting now, but at least they could finally stop dancing around each other and pretending that nothing ever happened.

At least they could take it from there- clean the slate and move on.

Be brothers again.

"In my dreams... you'd sometimes look down at me and there'd be nothing but _indifference_ in your eyes. Nothing but hatred and cold determination."

"Sam—" Dean protests in a low growl, running a nervous hand over his face as if wiping away the ghost trail of tears he would never let himself show in front of his little brother. " _Stop it._ "

Dean never pleads for anything, but this right here- the way his voice cracks and wobbles with painful resistance is the closest he's come to pleading in a really long time.

Sam tells himself to push further and not to give in, because this is necessary, even when it _hurts_.

"And afterwards, when I wake up, it's hard to believe sometimes that it wasn't just a bad dream but an actual **_memory_**. And that you have been standing there, looking down at me with that scythe in your hands, ready to give up on me like everyone else in my life had given up on me before. Everyone except for you. "

"Sammy..." Dean is shaking now, face grimacing as he tries to free himself from his brother`s grasp.

But Sam only tightens his hold, needing his brother to understand— needing Dean to hear him out.

He could take the easy route- explain all about how it wasn't really Dean's fault and how he had been under the effects of the mark, but to tell the truth- when Dean had told him to close his eyes in that bar- when his big brother had said _'Close your eyes, Sammy'_ with so much underlying fondness in his voice- Dean had been **_Dean_** that moment, maybe not 100% but still his big brother; still the person that meant comfort and protection and safety in every way that had ever mattered.

"I guess I've been spoiled in a way," Sam continues, letting his head drop forward to hide the shimmer of tears in his eyes. "See, when you have this one person that you trust with everything that you are, it's kinda hard to believe that they would ever do anything to hurt you."

Dean swallows and there is no mistaking the pained expression on his face.

He doesn't want to hear this, doesn't want to talk about what happened.

But Sam forces himself to continue.

"But do you wanna know what else I remember every time I wake up from one of these nightmares? I remember that the hands you almost used to _kill me_ , are the same hands that showed me how to tie my shoes. They are the hands that held me through Jessica's death. The ones that caught me in Cold Oak and held my head up when I didn't have enough strength left to do it myself. They are the ones that dug into dirt and gravel to bury a small metal box with your picture in it at the crossroad to hell. They are the hands that carried me out of that burning house over 30 years ago. And you know what, Dean? Somehow that makes it all okay. Because f there was any pair of hands on the face of this planet I'd like my life taken by, I figured it would only make sense it was you."

They are both quiet for a long while after that, Dean quietly working his jaw as he tries to reign his emotions.

Sam takes a deep breath, recalling the way Dean had looked down at him with vast regret and sorrow as he prepared to take that final blow- as he asked Sam to not look at him in order to make it easier on them both- as he asked him to avoid his gaze because he didn't want to see the look of devastating betrayal on Sam's face- the look of unadulterated love and trust, even when he was about to have his life taken by the person that meant most to him in the whole world.

"So if you are looking for forgiveness, you are looking at the wrong person. Because from where I'm standing, there's nothing to forgive _."_

It feels like Sam just set off a bomb or something, the silence washing over them like layers of dust and debris raining from the sky after the explosion.

For a second Sam is scared that it might have been a mistake to tell Dean how badly he is still struggling with what happened himself.

For a second he fears he's just made everything worse.

"Is that all?" Dean asks, voice gruff and eyes hesitantly rising to meet Sam's gaze.

"Almost," Sam's mouth twitches at the corners and he feels a heavy weight lift from his chest."You killed death to spare me, Dean. Even under the pull of the mark and despite everything that my death could have entailed, you still chose to spare my life... And maybe I should be pissed at you for that. But honestly, I'm just glad to have my brother back. So these dreams you are having- they are just dreams, ok? I'm right here, man. Not going anywhere..."

Dean lets out a watery snort at that. Then his face evens out in a way that signals a mixture of relief and gratefulness, eyes glinting with an unspoken apology he didn't have to voice.

Absolution is granted and taken without a word being said.

Dean sniffs and looks back towards the door jamb, when Sam finally released his brother's wrist with one last reassuring squeeze.

"Wanna take baby for a ride?"

It's about as much of a piece offering as Dean will ever be willing to offer up.

Sam's not going to say no.

He smiles and gets up from his seat at the kitchen table, brushing his shoulder lightly against his older brother's in a form of subtle reconnection. "Driver picks the music?`"

"Don't push your luck, Samantha," Dean snorts. "You try douching her up with that Ipod station one more time and I might actually kill you for real this time."

Sam lightly shoves Dean`s shoulder with a cheeky smile. "Nahh... you love me too much."

With that, he jogs past his brother, down the hallway, not waiting to see the reaction on Dean's face.

The lack of protest is an answer all by itself.

 **The END.**

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 _Ok, so I wrote this pretty quickly at work today and I might have to revise it a couple of times before it's working out the way I want it to, but I hope you guys enjoyed this little request fill. :) Please drop me a note to let me know what you thought! Reviews make my day! :D_


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